strongChapter 4 If You Don’t Self-Destruct, You Have to Go Insane/strong

“Then I’d rather drive Ms. Jean to school.” The driver’s mouth twitched as he spoke with righteous resolve.

The Jean in front of him was clearly different.

The old Jean was quiet, withdrawn, and refused to engage. The driver had no desire to test her temper either. For as long as he’d known her, the two of them existed in silent disregard of each other.

But now, he hadn’t expected Jean to be the one to break the silence.

Jean tugged at the corner of her mouth and suddenly beamed, radiant. “Mister, you know what? It’s not trendy to use names anymore…”

The driver frowned in confusion. “Then what do people use?”

Jean’s smile widened. “We go with ‘Princess’ now.”

“P-Princess?” The driver’s eyes went wide, but then he thought about it—Ms. Jean was, after all, still just a little girl. It made sense. Every little girl dreams of being a princess.

So that’s what she liked being called.

He caught on immediately. Getting out of the car, he opened the rear door for Jean with exaggerated respect. “Your Highness, your carriage awaits.”

Jean nodded approvingly.

Once she was seated, the driver didn’t forget to remind her, “Princess, please sit tight. We’re departing shortly.”

Jean snapped her fingers with ir. “Let’s go.”

…

The Rolls-Royce stopped in a quiet alley near the school.

Jean didn’t like shy entrances, so the driver had never taken her to the main gate.

With her backpack on, Jean hopped out of the car.

The driver escorted her to the school entrance and gave her a parting nod. “Ms… uh… I mean, Your Highness, please proceed…”

Jeanughed at his effort. “Okay, the princess roley ends here.”

Waving her finger, she smiled. “The princess has to pretend to be amoner for a while…”

The driver looked puzzled. So now he wasn’t supposed to call her that?

Jean really was unpredictable…

She nced up at the school gate, where bold, majestic letters spelled:

Who would’ve thought—after everything—Jean woulde back to school like this?

Thest time she’d been a student felt like eight hundred years ago.

Tugging her backpack strap, she strolled into the campus at a casual pace.

Sterford Academy was the most prestigious private school in irford. Children of the elite and young prodigies alike studied here. The bar for entry was sky-high, and its reputation even more so.

It had branches for every stage of education—from kindergarten to university—all under one roof. A lifelong academic package, basically.

The host’s older brothers had gone through all their schooling right here, from baby babble to college degrees.

Jean found her seat in the ssroom by matching the name printed on her schedule.

She wasn’t early.

Several students were already seated here and there.

The moment she walked in, conversations halted.

The students all turned to look at Jean, eyeszy and mocking.

Jean could tell right away—

She wasn’t wee here.

When she first got pulled into the novel, a flood of the host’s memories had poured into her mind.

But it wasn’t much—just a little more than what you’d get from reading the book.

The finer details were missing. Like how the host had gotten that six-pointed star badge. Or what her school life had actually been like…

Was she the weird outcast?

With a cold, closed-off personality like the host’s, it was no surprise she’d been unpopr at home and at school.

No wonder she got the cold shoulder…

“Ugh, herees that creep again…”

“Shh, don’t let her hear you. She’ll give you that bitter lemon face, haha…”

Even the whispers reached Jean’s ears.

Oh wow, she’d guessed right.

So she really was the ss pariah.

Jean pressed her lips together, dropped her bag, and plopped into her seat—

Crack!

She froze.

Oh no. She’d just broken something!

Instantly, the whole ssroom exploded inughter.

Some kids were doubled over, cackling like it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen.

The sound and mockery hit her all at once, making her clench her teeth.

Damn it!

She let her guard down. She’d been pranked.

Now she faced a terrible dilemma—

Should she stand up?

If she didn’t, she’d never know what she’d crushed.

But if she did… the red liquid from that broken whatever-it-was had already soaked her pants.

The whole ss would tear her to shreds.

That was their n all along.

A dumb, juvenile prank—and she fell right into it because she hadn’t been paying attention.

Don’t get mad.

Jean took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down before she snapped. Then—

She stood up like nothing happened.

Theughter around her hit a new high, echoing through the ssroom.

She turned to look at her chair—

A small, fragile ball had been ced there. It had cracked under her weight and spilled red paint everywhere.

She didn’t need to look to know her pants were now marked with a bright, embarrassing stain.

“Hahaha!”

“Look! Her butt’s all messed up!”

The shrillughter rang in her ears, over and over again.

Now she understood why people online were so eager to smack bratty kids and emo teens upside the head…

And right now, she felt the same way.

Technically, her soul was twenty-nine years old—she shouldn’t be getting into it with a bunch of students.

But Jean lived by one rule:

If you’ve got to choose between torturing yourself or losing your mind—go nuts and take someone down with you.

Self-destruction? Not an option.

You make her ufortable? She’ll go full crazy and show you exactly how “lovely” her mental state is.

She might be burned out, but that didn’t mean she had to take every hit lying down.

Jean grabbed the broken paint ball off the chair, turned around to face the ss, and mmed it on the floor.

The red paint sttered everywhere.

The room fell silent.

No one had ever seen her do something like this before. They all stared, wide-eyed and stunned.

Everyone knew Jean as the weird loner who didn’t talk.

They’d treated her like a ghost, mocked her loudly, and she’d always ignored it.

Totally unbearable.

Today, they wanted to spice things up a little.

But they never expected—

Jean didn’t just sit there and take it this time…

“Who did it?” Her re was cold and unyielding.

Her sharp voice was scarier than any angry teacher.

No one answered.

Of course not. No one wanted to admit it.

Jean let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Oh? Nobody’s owning up?”

“How about this—why don’t you all just say you’re tourists visiting Sterford Academy? Because I seriously can’t believe the school’s future stars are this trashy…”

The students held their breath, clearly rattled by the sudden shift in her tone.